I Can Try
by Lupienne
Summary: A short fic based off events in issue #167, Andrea asks a favor of Negan.


A/N: This is based strictly off events in Walking Dead Issue #167. Spoilers abound if you haven't read that. If you're a TV-only watcher this might be spoiler free since Andrea was killed in the TV show long ago.

'I Can Try.'

* * *

The influx of people had paused, as if everyone was taking a breather in between each of her last breaths.

Andrea took a deep, sweet gulp of air and wiped her sweating forehead. Good. She needed this minute to empty the pressure behind her eyes that she'd held back, then to wipe it away and brace herself for the next round.

Outside, she thought she heard a voice raised angrily. A door slamming. Through the worsening effects of the fever, there were moments where she forgot how bad off Alexandria was right now.

In the hallway, she heard footsteps. Another visitor. She remained as she was, propped up by several soft pillows. Aside from the bouts of dizziness, the sweating, and the heat radiating from her skin…she didn't feel too horrible – yet. She could still do this for a while.

The door opened and she scowled.

"Uh." Her visitor stood there awkwardly for a second, then smiled that shit-eating grin he was famous for.

"They weren't going to let me see you."

She just eyed him, wondering what idiocy was going to come out of that big mouth. Negan sank his hands into his leather coat pockets.

"You were a badass, and you were hot as fuck. I'd have been honored for you to be the one to kill me."

Her eyes rolled, and she snorted. A sudden cough jolted her ribs. And finally, she gave a short laugh.

Negan's lips quirked up, just slightly, at one corner.

"You're speaking in the past tense already," she noted. "Almost everyone is…"

"Yeah. That's awkward."

"Thanks, I guess. For the compliment." Even if it was coming from a man who masturbated with a baseball bat. It wasn't saying much.

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I know you've got a lot more people to see. I've taken up enough of your time. Bye, Andrea."

He left the rest unspoken. _And you don't have much time left._

He turned to leave and she watched his broad back start heading through the doorway. She'd wanted him dead, and maybe that want hadn't faded – but maybe…. there was a reason he was still alive. Despite everything. Maybe she could make a reason.

"Negan, wait a second."

He paused, but didn't turn.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"That's kind of obvious."

She ignored that, and just came out with it. "Look, I want you to do something for me."

He turned, genuine curiosity in his eyes. She expected snark or taunts, but Negan stayed quiet.

She ground her teeth. "You know if you hurt any of them.. Rick…Carl…I'll crawl out of my grave twice to get to you."

He gave a plaintive, puppy-dog look. "I'm not planning to hurt them…"

"Good. That's what I thought." She sighed. "Rick likes you, for whatever reason-"

His eyes brightened. "Rick said he likes me?"

She frowned. "No. And maybe I don't mean it like that. But…there's something about you that fascinates him. Maybe he sees himself in you, in those times he had his feet set on going down a really dark path – and you're what would have happened if he had."

She knew Rick might believe that…but she never did, or would. For him to even compare himself to someone like Negan…? But this wasn't about what _she_ thought, because her bearing on the world was fading fast.

Negan was looking at her – but not really – she knew there was a crack in the wall's plaster behind her. His bold eyes were fixated there.

"He might not say it, but he believes that you've changed. I don't…but I've been proven wrong by Rick a few times before."

Negan slipped his hands into his pockets again. "…I can't say I'm a fucking saint…I can't even say I'm not the exact same asshole you knew before, but…I don't want to be that anymore."

" _I'm_ the one on my deathbed," she smirked. "Don't be confessing _your_ sins to me. What I'm saying is…if Rick believes you can change and be of value…then I'm going to trust _his_ trust in you. I'm going to ask you a favor."

"Sure. Fucking lay it on me."

"Take care of him for me. Don't break any more parts of him that still hope. Keep him safe. Don't let him fall to his knees and stay there, because… I'm not going to tell him this… but I'm afraid for him. I can only motivate him so much…before…" She took a breath. "…before I can't anymore."

He didn't answer, a crease appearing between his dark eyebrows.

"Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," he uttered, finally. "I can… try."

"That's all anyone can do." The sweat was trickling down her forehead and she blotted it with her sheet. Her eyes needed emptying again, and she was damned if she'd do it in front of him.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Well. If that's it… I think I ought to go. They'll think I did something fucking untoward with how long I've been in here."

"Yes, it'd be so awful if you were to kill me now." She smirked, and he matched it. "Get your ass out of here, and don't make me regret not having Rick kill you."

"Yes, ma'am." Negan gave a slight bow with one big hand clasped to his chest, and then left just as quietly as he'd come in.

Perhaps Rick had been right about this – about mercy – just as he'd been right about building up instead of tearing down. She only hoped this promise would be kept – so the beacon of the new world could stay strong, stay shining.

She slipped lower in the bed, just for a moment's rest. Bracing herself for a fresh influx of faces. Theirs filled with a fresher, rawer kind of sadness than the kind that lurked behind the ever-present lines of Negan's smirk.

It was hard, and she cried at the thought of it – but them…all of them… were the reason she had stayed alive, and the reason she would die, and she'd be damned if she let them see anything but her love…

…and her joy that her last memories would be to see them all still breathing, crying, feeling, hoping, _living_.

* * *

 _If you enjoyed or found this fic even the least bit entertaining...please leave a comment. I don't get much feedback and it's quite discouraging. Your comment would mean a lot to me, however brief. I also don't mind (constructive) criticism. :)_


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